


Malfunctions

by trashassassin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Emotional, Gen, Sad, please turn back if you don't wanna be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 23:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashassassin/pseuds/trashassassin
Summary: Connor is losing his memory.





	Malfunctions

It was time for him to admit that something was wrong. This was no longer something that could be written off as a one time glitch that would right itself and then never come up again.

At first, it was little, insignificant things. You’d asked him to pick something up for you from the store on his way home, a small item, like a snack or a tube of toothpaste, and he’d forgotten. It was a distinctly human thing to do, something he’d figured was a normal part of the progression of deviancy.

Humans forgot things all the time, after all.

Granted, he’d never heard of such a thing happening before, but it made sense at the time.

But this theory began to fall apart as he thought about it further. Up until that point, he’d kept your birthday, your friends’ birthdays, all 261 of your online passwords, and at least a thousand addresses of nearby businesses committed to memory.

He’d never forgotten anything, especially not something as simple as what you wanted from the store.

And yet, as he stood on the balcony of your shared home, he’d completely forgotten why he’d come out there in the first place. It certainly wasn’t to contemplate why his mind was falling apart.

You had asked for something. But what was it?

It was fruitless to try and remember. Instead, he simply sighed and pulled a folded up piece of paper from his pocket upon which he’d written your instructions once he was safely out of your line of sight.

You’d asked him to retrieve the book you’d left on the patio table before it began to rain. Of course! How could he have forgotten something like that? You’d told him… 

… not long ago, he was sure.

He grabbed the book from the table and brought it inside just as a mass of dark clouds was starting to roll up in the distance.

You were facing away from him when he made it back to the living room, your attention focused whatever was on the television in front of you. It was a celebrity gossip show, he found as he examined it closer, a genre you were never really fond of.

That much he could remember, at least.

Without a word, he set the book on the coffee table and sat down beside you.

You didn’t look away from the television. You couldn’t. You knew that if you opened your mouth to address what was on your mind, you would break down.

You weren’t even paying attention to what was on the screen. All you had wanted was something, anything, to slow the tide of your racing thoughts so you had a chance, however brief, of straightening them out.

Your hands clenched into fists, gripping tightly to the fabric of your pants as you considered what you were going to say.

“So,” you said, punctuated with a sharp sigh. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you or are you gonna keep pretending like nothing’s wrong?”

He stared down at your hands, the light on his temple turning from blue to yellow.

“I told you,” he said. “Just a simple malfunction, nothing more. It happens. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s happening every day now.” Your eyes were so focused on the television that it became the only thing you could see as your surroundings whited out around you. “How long should it have taken to retrieve that book? Certainly not fifteen minutes!”

“Are you angry with me?”

You shook your head and closed your eyes in a vain attempt to dam the flow of tears that began to rise to their surface.

“No, Connor, I’m not angry with you,” you said. “I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Your battle against the tears was futile. You’d been holding them back for days now and they made the executive decision to spill onto your cheeks all at once.

Connor reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, which was finally enough to draw your mind back to the present and your attention back onto him.

“I guess there’s no point in denying it any longer,” he said. “For both of our sakes. I’ve been having problems with my memory.”

“I thought so.” You looked away again. “Look, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but maybe it’s time I took you in to a repair shop, just to see if they can’t figure out what’s wrong. It’ll be like me going to the doctor. Nothing to be ashamed of, right?”

He nodded.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

Finally, you’d managed to talk some sense into him. You were well aware of the reason he was so reluctant to ask for help. From the very beginning, he’d always assured you that he was entirely self-sufficient. Admitting that he had a problem he was unable to solve by himself made him feel like a failure.

It made him feel like he was just a machine, and a broken one at that.

To you, however, he was simply sick. Of course, he was unable to get sick in the traditional way that a human could, but that hardly meant that he was immune from the occasional off day that came along with being alive.

But somehow, this didn’t feel like one of his occasional off days.

You tried to push this thought out of your mind as the two of you got into the car and you made your way toward the nearest CyberLife repair shop.

They had become quite commonplace since androids had won the battle for equal rights quite some time ago. As you had explained to Connor many times, they had become like hospitals for androids instead of somewhere to sealed off and analyzed.

Still, you could tell that he was nervous as you exited the car, so you took hold of his hand before making your way toward the sliding entrance doors.

You approached one of the attendants seated behind the reception desk, a kind-looking female android in a white uniform and explained the situation to her. Once she’d heard what you had to say, she directed you toward the waiting area.

You and Connor stayed there for what felt like an eternity but, in reality, was likely a time period closer to twenty minutes.

You were then called back by another woman, a human woman, dressed in a similar uniform with a name tag that read “Morgan”.

She greeted you, a gesture that fell on deaf ears as you gave a canned response, then lead you back to a small room containing a number of gadgets you couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of.

Although you didn’t understand what was happening, you kept a close eye on every step of the process.

You watched as Morgan put Connor through a series of tests, all of which she assured you were “standard” and “just in case”, and you held his hand through as many as you were able to.

Her face remained stoic throughout the entire process and that made you nervous.

“Well?” you finally asked.

Your heart was racing and your grip on Connor’s hand tightened.

“It was as I suspected,” she said. “His memory unit is starting to wear out. But, other than that, everything appears to be in good working order.”

“So, you can replace it, right?”

She sat down across from you and looked you directly in the eye, a solemn expression on her face.

“Normally, we would be able to,” she said. “But, he’s an older model, so the parts we need are no longer in circulation.”

Your entire body froze as you fully absorbed what she’d said. That was one of the last things you’d wanted to hear.

“So, there’s nothing you can do?” you asked. “Nothing at all?”

“I’m afraid the damage has already been done,” she said. “Even if we were able to repair it, it would be highly likely to malfunction again, if not break altogether.”

You pressed your hand over your mouth, trying your best to hold it together in front of her.

“I’m very sorry,” she said. “I can tell that he is very important to you and I wish I could do more to help.”

“You did all you could,” you said.

Your voice was flat and shaky, entirely devoid of its usual tone.

Without another word, you stood and exited the room, keeping Connor’s hand tightly in yours as you made your way back out to the parking lot.

Neither one of you said anything on the drive back home. You couldn’t speak for him, but you were trying to keep your head clear so that you could concentrate. The last thing you needed was to get into a car accident after the horrible news you’d received.

“Are you alright?” he asked as the two of you stepped inside the house.

Caring about your well-being above his own. How very much like him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “You wait here. There’s something I have to do upstairs.”

You turned and ascended the staircase as quickly as your legs would allow. They felt as though they were made of lead, propelling your body forward through quicksand.

You had resolved that, perhaps, if you just had a minute to think then you would be able to figure out something, anything that would make a difference.

But as soon as you reached your bedroom, your knees gave out and you collapsed onto the floor, the tears you’d been holding in for so long flowing freely now that you no longer felt the pressure of putting on a brave face.

The reality was, there was nothing you or anyone else could do now and, deep down inside, a part of you had known that all along.

Your body was racked with heaving sobs and you hugged your knees to your chest, feeling entirely hopeless all the while.

If his memory had given out, then what was next? How long would it be until he shut down entirely?

You stood up and shook your head, brushing your tears away with the backs of your hands. You wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow alone any longer. If there was ever a time when he needed you, it was now.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself, then headed back down the stairs, only to find him seated at the dining room table, scribbling something furiously with a pen.

You came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he simple pushed whatever he had been writing on in your direction.

It was a square sheet of paper, medium sized, and on it was written your full name, your birthdate, a list of your favorite foods, and a few of the things you liked to do in your spare time. You turned it over and, on the other side, was a picture of you.

You remembered when it was taken. It was your first anniversary and it was quite cold that day, evidenced by the fact that your cheeks and your nose were tinged pink. The two of you had just been to dinner at your favorite restaurant when he pulled out a camera and pointed it at you as you were walking back to the car.

He said that he never wanted to forget how you looked in that moment. And so, he took your picture in spite of your protests that you were tired and cold, and it likely wouldn’t come out that great.

“I never want to forget you,” he said. “But even if I do, you know I’ll always love you, right?”

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears all over again.

“Oh, Connor.” You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in as tight as you could possibly managed. “Of course I know that. No matter what happens to you, I’ll never let myself lose sight of that.”

“You promise?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I promise.”


End file.
